


True North

by Emmasinthebooknow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Music, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmasinthebooknow/pseuds/Emmasinthebooknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU oneshot. Killian has disappeared without telling anyone why. Emma suspects something is wrong, and she is on a road trip to find him and help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True North

It's snowing hard, and Emma has been driving all night. She's listening to his songs as she drives. Ever since Killian disappeared two days ago, they've been playing his songs on every radio station. As she drives further into the snowstorm, the radio keeps crackling in and out, so she just gets snatches of his voice. He's singing a song that is slow and sweet, and his voice is low and lovely.

She knows all the words to this one. It's called True North, and a it's quiet song about going out in a sailboat with someone he loves. It's not about Emma, but it's still one of her favorites, because it is so lovely and simple. Whenever she hears it, it always makes her feel like love might be less complicated than she always believed it had to be.

(She is going to find him. She is going to save him. They are going to live happily ever after.)

When the song ends, the late-night deejay crackles to life, talking a mile a minute about how Killian left Emma. How he walked right out of his life one day, after just deciding he didn't want it anymore. Left his career, left Emma, and didn't even leave a note. They have no evidence that this is what he did, of course. All they have to go on are a few sightings of him at rest stops and diners along the route Emma's been driving. Everything else is speculation.

It's ugly speculation, of course. They say fame got to him. They say he's dating this-or-that starlet. Cheating, drugs, more cheating. Everything you'd expect. Everything Emma would have expected herself to believe, if this had been posed to her hypothetically.

But she only believes this: He did not want to disappear, and something is very wrong.

Yes, people always leave Emma. Yes, that's how it's always been. But this feels different.

(She wonders how long this faith will last, though. She's started keeping up a lot of rituals to make her feel closer to him, like drinking her rest-stop coffee like him - cream, no sugar - and wearing one of his favorite sweatshirts as she drives. She has never felt faith like this, and she's not yet clear on how it works.)

She doesn't want to hear the radio chatter between songs, but she has to grit her teeth and listen, because she needs information. It's only thanks to the land of celebrity gossip, that she knows what town he was sighted in yesterday. So that's where she's headed. And once she's there? Then, somehow, she'll figure out what to do next. She'll have to.

When she sees a roadside diner that looks like it has decent bathrooms, she pulls over. The parking lot is sparse. She can hear that they're playing one of his songs inside. It's one he wrote about the downsides of fame. Probably, it was selected by someone to bolster the sex-drugs-and-rock-n-roll view of his disappearance. (Well, technically, this is everyone's view of his disappearance, including the cops. Emma is on her own.)

The light inside is bright and fluorescent. Emma squints as her eyes adjust. She'd only meant to stay a minute, but the smells of fried food and sugar make her belly rumble, and the warmth makes her want to sink into a booth and rest. She hadn't realized how much she needed a break. She's exhausted, bleary-eyed, and on the point of collapsing. If she means to keep up this drive, she's going to have to sit down, eat, and stare at something other than an icy road.

"Long drive?" the waitress is a woman with grey hair, peering at her over her glasses. As soon as Emma looks into her eyes, she sees it: this woman recognizes her. The back of Emma's neck prickles. She realizes, without even looking, that other people are watching her too.

"BLT and fries, please. And coffee. Cream, no sugar." The BLT is what Killian would order after a drive like this.

The woman makes a face Emma can't quite puzzle out, and says, "Coming right up." She scribbles on her notepad. Then she asks, "So, where are you headed?" Her voice is just a little too casual, and Emma doesn't like it. She can feel all those other eyes boring into her, too.

So Emma just says, "to the bathroom." Then she stands up, slides out of her seat, and marches away.

At the sink, Emma splashes cold water on her face. It wakes her up a little. A waitress wanders in and leans against the wall, watching Emma in the mirror.

"Do you need the sink?" Emma asks. The waitress shakes her head. Streaks of red flash in her long brown hair. 

"Wet the paper towels with ice-cold water, then press them on your eyes," the waitress says, with a level of authority that clearly comes from too many late-night shifts. Emma does, and it feels amazing. Instantly, her eyes feel less tired, and the coldness is sweet relief.

"Thanks," Emma says. The waitress, whose nametag says 'Ruby,' just smiles and shrugs.

Ruby keeps watching Emma, as she throws away the soaked paper towels and dries her face. As she watches, she bites her pinky nail, and an uneasy expression builds in her eyes. It's only when Emma gives her a pointed look in the mirror that she speaks again.

Ruby sighs, lets her hand drop to her side, and says, "He was here."

Emma stares at her in the mirror, holding eye contact. She isn't lying. Slowly, Emma turns to face her. "When?"

Another shrug. "Last night. Early evening."

Emma feels a surge of energy. It's the feeling she gets when she's working on a case and she's finally hit on the place or person who can give her some real, useful information. This will be the stepping-stone to her next lead. And it's about damn time.

Emma quizzes her, and gets some answers. Killian came in alone. He wore a baseball cap. He ordered a BLT and coffee. He ate them.

"Was he being followed by anyone? Or looking around a lot?" Emma asks.

The look Ruby gives her is sympathetic and world-weary, the look of someone who's seen way too many guys come and go. "No," she says. "Sorry."

Emma sighs. "I know how I sound. Just humor me for a few more questions?" Ruby nods.

But all Emma gets out of it is that Killian was fine. That's the word Ruby uses - "fine." Nope, he didn't seem upset. No, he didn't make any phone calls. No, he didn't ask for directions. No, he wasn't in a hurry. He was just....fine.

Back at her table, Emma eats her sandwich quickly, keeping her head down. It's not what she expected, and she's afraid that if she stops to think, she'll start to feel like it's time to give up on Killian. She doesn't feel it yet - but she feels the possibility of it, looming and threatening. And she can't give into that yet. She has more to do.

After she eats, she investigates. She walks through the diner, back to the table where Killian sat. He didn't leave anything. She talks to lots more people, and gets nothing new. She goes outside, and wanders around the parking lot. She does not suddenly find any useful pieces of evidence. 

Finally, she has to admit it to herself: there is nothing she can find that suggests Killian was in danger when he passed through here.

The heavy snow muffles the diner music so it's nearly inaudible. Emma stands alone in the quiet, snowy parking lot, and waits. She waits for the pain to finally come - the gut-punch of fear that this is exactly what it looks like. Just a famous guy running out on his girlfriend. Just a guy running out on Emma, like everyone does.

Snow piles over the toes of her boots. The song changes, then changes again. The feeling doesn't come. It isn't going to come.

Nothing has changed. She does not feel any less sure that Killian _did not want to go_. It's a strange feeling. Emma never thought she'd have faith like this again, for someone to love her and not leave her. But here it is, real as real, and she doesn't need sweatshirts or sandwiches or a certain type of coffee to keep it afloat.

When she turns on the radio in the car, they're playing music by a different singer. Emma frowns. She doesn't like the thought of that. If he's somewhere with a radio playing, she wants him to know that everyone is still wondering where he is. That he's not forgotten, and not hopeless.

She dials the radio's request line. When they put her through, she says, "Could you please play 'True North' by Killian Jones?"

"Sure thing, honey! And who's this caling?"

Emma would love to tell this guy exactly who she is, but she knows it's not smart to announce to the radio that Emma Swan is coming to save Killian. So she says,

"An old girlfriend." 

"Aw, tough breaks! Lemme guess: did he leave you high and dry, too?"

Emma looks out at the snow-dusted road and the winking lights of cars in the distance. "No," she says, curling her hands around the steering wheel, getting ready to drive. "He didn't leave me."


End file.
